


Each Other

by havetaoque



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Adventures, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Arthur Knows, Childhood Friends, Friendship, Growing Up, M/M, Magic, Modern Era, Trouble, Worldbuilding, bildungsroman, boys, magic restraints, wheelbarrows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7961779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havetaoque/pseuds/havetaoque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU; A glimpse into the lives of child!Merlin and child!Arthur. Boyhood adventures, confused emotions, and a powerful friendship. Magic users are scorned. Arthur wants Merlin to feel accepted. Pre-slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1\. The Gutter Rat

Merlin pushed the wheelbarrow between rows of colorful market stalls and tried not to rear-end Gaius. The fringed awnings provided very little shade and the hastily applied sun cream slathered over Merlin's face and neck was sloughing off his skin as the temperature picked up.

"Here, my boy, put the wheelbarrow in the shade – yes, right there. I want to select some of these tomatoes for Uther's supper." Merlin parked the wheelbarrow with its uneven feet on the dirt and stood on his toes to peer over the array of red tomatoes.

He trailed his fingers over the smooth skin of the fruit, bump, bump, bump over every tomato. Gaius raised an eyebrow at him, so he picked out a ripe one and slipped it into the canvas bag on Gaius's shoulder. Gaius chose five more and paid the merchant with a few little coins.

As they were leaving, a rotten tomato struck Merlin in the small of his back. He pitched forward over the wheelbarrow, landing face first in a sack of flour. Gaius hunched his shoulders, helped Merlin up, and glared at the tomato-throwers' retreating cloud of dust. Mocking words of "freak" and "sorcerer" hung in the hot air long after the boys had vanished.

Merlin wiped at the wet spot on his shirt and didn't say a word. He set both hands on the wheelbarrow and started it moving again. The brass band on his ankle chafed his soft skin.

When they returned to Uther's house, hot and dusty from the road, the anklet was bothering Merlin so much that he began to limp.

"Merlin?" Gaius pursed his lips and tugged up Merlin's trouser leg, revealing a battered sneaker and blood oozing around the metal. He frowned. "Run along inside. I'll manage the groceries the rest of the way. Wait for me before you do anything to it!" he called, as Merlin dashed awkwardly up the stonework toward the side door.

Gaius sat Merlin on the kitchen table, trouser leg rolled up to his knee. He set a bowl of warm water and a cloth on the little foot stool and began to dab gently at Merlin's ankle. Merlin hissed when the cloth dragged over his skin.

"Why does it do that?" He chewed his lower lip.

Gaius straightened and handed Merlin a glass of water from the tap. "Your magic is probably retaliating. It wants to get out of your body," he clarified at Merlin's confused expression.

"Oh," Merlin said. He swung his leg back and forth. "But how come I can do little things and the band doesn't hurt?"

"The bands were built mainly to stop war magic. So I suppose the bands contain acts violence with extra force." He took a clean linen cloth and bound Merlin's ankle while the wound healed. "It was done after Nimueh's revolution failed. But most magic users are too weak now for even the simplest of spells banded or not."

Merlin knew about Nimueh and her bloody revolution. Hundreds of magic users died in their district, along with most of the dragons and Merlin's father, Balinor. It happened ages ago.

"And we've all been banded since," Gaius muttered. His own band didn't bother him anymore. Sometimes he felt a niggling sensation in the back of his mind, but the wisp of magic was so intangible, it hardly felt a part of him anymore.

The front door burst open and Arthur marched through, dumping his school books on the floor. He saw Merlin slumped on the kitchen table and announced, loud enough for the entire house to hear, "I hate those stupid magic bands. They hurt Merlin all the time!"

Merlin gave him a fleeting glance, hoping Arthur wouldn't see the dark stain on his shirt. But of course, Arthur did.

"Did Hengist give you that?"

Merlin nodded reluctantly. It was embarrassing.

"I'll clock him one next time I see him, don't worry Merlin. Nobody hits my Merlin!" He squeezed his servant's shoulder and left to do his homework.

"I wish I could stick up for Arthur the way he sticks up for me," Merlin said when Arthur had gone. "If not for this stupid, stupid band! I'm completely useless in a fight." He kicked the table leg again, his heel bouncing off painfully.

Gaius grabbed his wayward foot before he made the wobbly table collapse. Merlin climbed off, hopping on one foot and went to cut vegetables with Gaius.

"You're not useless, Merlin. But I suppose your band bothers you more than most."

"That's an understatement," Merlin muttered. "It's always trying to escape. Why doesn't it happen with the other magic people? Why only me?"

"You're extremely powerful, Merlin." Gaius peeled a squash and sliced it in neat, precise, slivers.

"I don't feel powerful. How can my destiny be real when I can only move things around? I can't use it for anything cool. And I'm not even allowed to use it or I'll get stoned or something by the district elders."

Gaius chuckled. "The elders don't stone people with magic anymore. They did used to burn them at the stake once. They tried to burn Nimueh, but she escaped half-mad after seven years in prison."

Merlin worried his lip again and heaved a loud sigh. He didn't mind being a servant, it wasn't that. The serving class was looked down upon, but never openly attacked liked magic users were. Magic users might have been fifteenth class citizens or maybe rats in the gutter for all anybody cared. Arthur was often teased and mocked for playing with Merlin, but whenever his school friends made such comments they received either an earful about inner quality and honor, or just a firm punch in the nose. Merlin really had to stop smirking when the boys slunk off, holding their faces. It didn't usually help his case when he went out alone.

Heavier footsteps came down the stairs and Uther walked into the kitchen, bringing with him an aura that suggested he could have you killed so quietly even he wouldn't know about it.

"I heard Merlin was attacked today."

Gaius dipped his head respectfully. "Some ruffians threw a tomato at Merlin in the market. He's alright though, sir."

"And his band? It's paining him again?" At Merlin's nod, Uther approached and asked to see. Merlin lifted his trouser leg, revealing the neat dressing. Small flecks of blood around the outline of the band showed through the linen.

"I see. Well, take care to control your impulses better next time. We don't want you crippled at such a tender young age." He patted Merlin a little roughly on the back and, with a smile at Gaius, left them alone again.

"We're very fortunate that Uther is the way he is. Your father, Balinor was his great friend. It was from him that Uther learned the joys magic could bring."

"Aren't you his friend too, Uncle Gaius?" Merlin put a handful of carrots into the pot.

"I count myself as such," Gaius said. "I've known Uther for many years. He has always treated me kindly."

The next day was Saturday. Arthur and Merlin took a walk.

"My art teacher is having us work with wood this week," Arthur announced. "We're going to make bird houses."

"Why?" asked Merlin, scrunching his nose. "I thought birds lived in trees. What do they need houses for?"

Arthur rolled his eyes but couldn't think up a good explanation that would satisfy his curious servant. "Have you even seen a real bird house before?"

"No." Merlin kicked a pebble and watched it bounce along in the dirt. Yellowed newspapers drifted at the side of the alley, fluttering in the mild breeze. "There are hardly any birds to begin with. They left after the revolution."

Arthur glanced at Merlin's pensive face, wondering if his band was still bothering him. But he knew enough not to ask him now. Merlin would often suffer in silence. He liked to prove he could be as independent and stoic as Arthur. He wasn't, but Arthur humored him for the sake of his servant's pride.

They crested the hill and Arthur took the lead, scrambling up a brick wall towards the low roofs of the district. They sat side by side, watching the people mill about in the market. Uther's house stood at the end of the long road, the largest house in town. Its slanted rooftops glittered under the sun, dark glass windows winking in the light as the clouds blew across the scrubbed, blue sky. It was the house that both Arthur and Merlin had been born in. Hunith had nursed Arthur when Igraine died, and then her own son Merlin two years later.

But Arthur didn't like to think about his mother. Especially since he had killed her.

He wished Hunith had stayed with them, but she'd she passed Merlin into the care of his uncle Gaius (who wasn't really Merlin's uncle) and left for the other district where she could get a job. It wasn't safe for magic people there, she explained, and hardly the place to raise her son. Uther had agreed to take the boy on as part of his tiny staff when he became old enough. It was the perfect arrangement. Merlin served Arthur and Merlin played with Arthur (when the other children weren't around).

Uther made the effort to include Merlin and Gaius in the family. Gaius, because he was an old friend and servant, and Merlin because Uther was honoring a debt to Merlin's dead father, Arthur thought. Sometimes Uther would pat Merlin's head affectionately or thank him when he brought him his tea. Arthur wished he could do the same and earn the satisfaction, the approval, of his father for such small gestures. He had grown up trying to be better – to be the best – at everything he did. He was athletic and strong willed and had a good heart. He succeeded in every activity his father enrolled him in – football, horse riding, fencing, even school. When Arthur presented his father with his certificate for positive behavior, Uther said one word.

"Good."

And went back to his paperwork.

Now it was Arthur's turn to look pensive. Merlin picked up on his mood change so suddenly that Arthur was blindsided by the full force of Merlin's mischievous smile. Merlin tugged him to his feet again and they raced back down the street, kicking up a cloud of dust around them. Merlin laughed loudly and made the dust look like a horse. Arthur grinned and was about to say something complimentary (a rarity, but Merlin had just saved him from his usual depressing thoughts) when a rock shot through the horse's belly like a bullet, whizzing inches from their heads. The horse shape disintegrated, revealing Hengist and his three cronies: Jarl, Alvarr, and Cenred.

Arthur stepped in front of Merlin, balling up his fists. He felt Merlin clasping the back of his shirt in a cautionary gesture. Arthur narrowed his eyes as the dust blew away, saw the four people he hated the most. They were outnumbered, and Merlin's constant obsession with Arthur's safety would probably mean another painful night of thrashing at the ankle band if Arthur couldn't control the situation right now. Or God help him, someone was going to have a bloody nose. And it wouldn't be Arthur.

"Hello Merlin," Hengist said smugly. He put his hands on his hips, stared him down over Arthur's shoulder. Merlin flinched, but didn't look away.

"What do you want with us?" Arthur said. He glanced between the three others, wondering who he needed to punch first, because Hengist was never in the front lines if he ordered a brawl.

"Tell your slave there he'd better keep a civil tongue in his head. He was being a mouthy little shit the other day. If he were my slave, I'd flog him good. So good, his back would be in ribbons. Would you like that, Merlin? Red ribbons like a pretty, pretty present for Arthur."

"Shut up! He's not a slave, you git! He's my—"

"Dog? He's your bitch, isn't he? Follows you everywhere, doesn't he?" He sneered. "Does he even pay you, Merlin?"

Merlin leaned his forehead between Arthur's shoulder blades and took some deep breaths. Hengist must have thought Merlin was crying, but Arthur knew this was his way of fighting off the urge to do something with his magic. Behind him, he felt Merlin's leg twitch, the one with the band, and Arthur knew it must be hurting him now.

He swallowed his pride. "He's my friend. My best friend. And he's more loyal than they are." He jerked his chin to where Alvarr and Jarl and Cenred were slouching in Hengist's shadow.

Hengist took a step forward, leering. "My father keeps giant rats in cages. The next time I catch Merlin alone, I'll stick him in with them. The rats love pasty little sorcerers."

Hengist fell flat on his face. His friends stared, and looked away when their leader brushed himself off with several curses. Hengist jabbed a finger in Merlin's direction. "Don't think I'll forget this." And he stormed away.

"What did you do?" Arthur asked, turning around. He gripped Merlin's shaking shoulders. "You used magic didn't you? Merlin, I told you – your band!"

Merlin hazarded a smile. "I shifted the dirt under his feet. It doesn't count as war magic I guess."

Arthur's sigh of relief came quickly. "Sometimes I think you might be almost as smart as me. Almost."


	2. Lads of the Lake

2\. Lads of the Lake

There were only three windows in the garage, and all three of them were covered in a layer of grime so thick that looking into the adjoining garden was like staring through a bowl of Gaius's porridge. Arthur stood on his toes and tugged the string for the single bulb that lit the empty garage.

When the bulb flickered to life, Merlin heaved the sigh of the defeated and gave Arthur a baleful glance. Arthur ignored him, eagerly plowing through the mess of boxes and old car parts towards the wood that leaned against the wall.

"Come help me, Merlin."

Merlin trailed after him, doing his best to make his sneakers squeak on the cement floor. He kicked a box half-heartedly and shuffled to a stop beside Arthur.

"This is stupid, Arthur. We're going to drown."

"You can swim better than me. You aren't going to drown, idiot." He ruffled Merlin's hair with his dirty hand and grasped a plank of wood leaning against the wall, fumbling for a better grip under its weight. Merlin exhaled loudly and took two, using his magic to lessen the load. Arthur glared.

"That's cheating."

Merlin stuck out his tongue, but made Arthur's plank lighter as well. Arthur beamed and strutted out of the garage.

"Dump them behind the bush!" he called, jogging back in to get another.

It took them an hour to haul the wood to the pond, even with Merlin's magic helping them. He said it was making his ankle itchy, using so much magic, even if it wasn't the illegal kind, so Arthur said he mustn't overdo himself. "Or you'll faint like a big girl again, Merls."

The planks were laid in a row on the shore. Arthur frowned at them, wondering how on earth he was going to build a boat from six lumps of uneven wood, when Merlin removed one and laid it diagonally across the other five.

"Will that work, Arthur?" Merlin asked eagerly.

"I don't know," Arthur said, stalling for time. He was reluctant to admit Merlin might be a tiny bit genius. It irked him when Merlin came up with clever ideas before him. He was the one who went to school, Merlin helped Gaius keep house; he did the cleaning and the cooking, the grocery shopping, the ironing… Merlin couldn't even read, yet sometimes Arthur felt Merlin could read him better than he could himself. He liked to tease Merlin about his illiteracy, chiding him with "You don't know what that word means? Really?" or "I'm not sure that's right. Do you even know the physics behind it?" At which point Merlin would twist his neckerchief around his fingers and grin, responding cheekily with something along the lines of his having magic could bypass the physics Arthur was taught in school. And the worst part was Merlin was usually right.

He shouldn't be, so Arthur said, "We need nails first, obviously. And no, I don't want you to use your magic. You'll hurt your ankle again. And this boat is mine."

"Yes, Arthur," Merlin said. And because he was an intelligent, albeit clumsy boy, Merlin pulled out a little cloth sack with nails. And a hammer.

He'd planned it all along, Arthur thought, the little git. But silently he blessed Merlin's forethought, as they would not have to make a secret trip back to the house and risk being seen by Uther. Arthur took the nails and the hammer from Merlin and crouched on the dirt beside the wood.

"Hold this steady for me," Arthur said, positioning the first nail over the cross plank. Merlin put both hands on the board. "Put your weight on it." It wouldn't make much difference either way; Merlin hardly weighed a thing, but he grunted and pressed hard. Arthur brought the hammer down and with a thunk the nail began to sink into the old wood.

When the boat was done, Arthur and Merlin stepped back to survey their handiwork. It was smaller than they'd anticipated.

"Will that hold us both?" Merlin asked, uncertainly. He prodded the edge with his boot. Arthur put his hands on his hips and surveyed his boat with a critical eye, imitating Uther in his study, poring over business related paperwork. It was mostly for show, as Arthur hadn't the slightest idea if the boat would actually support their weight, let alone float on the water.

"It's more of a raft," Arthur said, for lack of any ideas as to the potential passenger count the contraption could take. "No sides."

Merlin bent down to grasp one end of the raft. "Let's put it in the pond, Arthur."

"We'll get pretty wet though," Arthur realized. He hadn't thought about that before they got to the pond. He looked at his new, leather boots. Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"It's a raft, of course we're bound to get wet, silly."

"But if my father finds out I've ruined my boots—"

"Then take them off!" Merlin stood up and pulled off his own socks and shoes, dropping them carelessly onto the grass. He squished his toes into the cold dirt and grinned at Arthur, his eyes crinkling into little crescent moons. He looked so utterly stupid, but still so adorable that Arthur laughed and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

Of course Merlin would suggest such a thing. Arthur grinned back, started tugging off his boots. He wobbled, throwing a hand out to steady himself, as he yanked them off, one by one. Merlin wrapped an arm around his waist to support him, screeching like a cat when Arthur dug his fingers into his side and tickled him. Merlin collapsed into paroxysms of laughter, taking Arthur down to the grass with him. Faintly, Arthur thought that perhaps he shouldn't be getting his clothes full of grass stains, and what would father think, but then Merlin was giggling and wiping a smudge of dirt from his face.

"Get on," he urged. He moved to sit in the middle of the raft.

"It's still on the shore," Arthur said, getting to his feet. He made feeble brushing motions against his clothes, but gave up with only a small twinge of chagrin when he thought of Gaius tutting over the smudges.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I know that." He patted the spot next to him. "But you didn't want to get wet, and we'd get wet pushing it out, so get on while it's still on land and we'll be okay!"

"I think you're still missing the point," Arthur said, wedging himself beside Merlin on the raft. "Budge up, or I'll fall off and we'll have to explain to father why I've ruined my new clothes." Once he was situated, he began to patiently explain to Merlin why the raft had to be on the water first before they sat on it. Merlin just cocked his head and with a wave of his hand, they were sliding down the shore as if the raft were a sled. They hit the water with a gentle splash and were in the middle of the pond before long.

Arthur gripped the wood tightly, a wild smile of excitement on his face. "That was incredible!"

Merlin beamed and spun them in a circle. "We could go sailing down the river now. Like the Viking raiders in the red book!" He was referring to the thick, leather-bound book of legends that Arthur read from occasionally. They would march up the hill behind the house and climb up the tree with the low, broad branches, and Arthur would read to Merlin. Sometimes he would make things up and see if Merlin would catch on. He almost always did, because Arthur was a terrible story teller. His versions always had a clumsy wizard and a brave knight. And sometimes Merlin would let him ramble, humor him, because rarely, very rarely, Arthur would say something brilliant that would bring a luminous smile to Merlin's lips. Arthur loved those moments the best and wished he could always be that clever to make Merlin smile like that. He carved a crown and a crooked wizard hat into the bark and drew a wobbly heart around it. When Merlin made a face, Arthur had patiently explained that there were several kinds of love in the world. This, Merlin knew, but Arthur had felt a twinge of embarrassment for carving the heart, and felt he needed to explain himself to Merlin. Which was absurd, really, because Merlin understood him better than anyone.

Merlin made a slashing motion with his hand, imitating the sweep of a sword. The raft rocked on the pond. Arthur wished he had a pole to push them around. The pond wasn't deep and he didn't like relying completely on Merlin's magic. He wanted some power for himself. After all, it was his raft.

"We need a warship," Arthur declared. "We can put sides on the raft and make a sail too. Or we could make it bigger and have tea in the middle of the pond. Would you like that, Merlin? Tea in our very own Viking warship?"

Merlin leapt to his feet with excitement, but overbalanced. Windmilling his arms, he tipped backwards. Arthur grabbed his wrist, but Merlin was already falling and the resulting splash made the raft bob away. Arthur leaned towards the edge, arm extended as though it would suddenly grow long as an octopus tentacle to pull Merlin back to safety. Merlin's head came up from the water, a lily pad dripping over his head and a water plant dangling from one ear like an outrageous earring. Arthur burst into laughter and used his hands to paddle his way back toward Merlin. It was slow going and Merlin reached Arthur first, swimming strongly through the pond water. He propped his chin on the raft and looked at Arthur with unabashed tenderness – not quite the face Arthur was expecting, seeing his servant had just taken an ill-advised swim, but he found himself reacting nonetheless, a smile mirroring Merlin's creeping across his face.

"Here, take my hand."

Merlin shook his head. "It'll make the raft tip over and then you'll get all wet too."

Arthur laughed. "I don't care! Take my hand."

"Your father will," Merlin said. A frown crossed his face and he sighed, shivering a little in the water. "We shouldn't have gone out – with you in your good clothing. Your uncle is coming to visit this afternoon."

Arthur sighed. "Well you get out of the pond then too. You'll catch a cold or something. I don't want you getting your germs all over my breakfast." He snorted in a manner most unbefitting that of the son of the richest armaments dealer and part-time horse breeder in the district.

"Prat." Merlin turned and swam back to land, mindful not to splash Arthur with his kicking feet. When he stumbled onto the sandy grass, he pulled the raft back as well, all the way up the little slope to keep Arthur dry.

Merlin stood, dripping at the edge of the pond, hair plastered to his head. His ears stuck out even more without his black hair to hide them. He was shivering.

Arthur wished he had a towel to wrap his servant in. "Where will we stash the raft?"

"Just leave it here, Arthur, nobody will take it." His eyes turned gold for a moment and he grinned, teeth chattering.

"What did you do?" Arthur asked. The raft was still by the pond, dark with the wetness, but hardly camouflaged.

"Perception filter," Merlin said, as though it explained everything.

"Where on earth did you learn to do that? You don't even know a spell to dry clothing, do you?"

At the mention of his wet clothes, a telltale sign of their forbidden antics, Merlin's face crumpled in a dismayed frown. "He'll know we went to the pond." He meant Gaius. And Gaius did not like it when Merlin went off and did foolish things, like fall in ponds. Uther made certain allowances for Merlin since Merlin's father had grown up with Uther, a servant to him just as Merlin was to Arthur. The rest of the community looked down their noses at those with magic with enough disdain and contempt to make an apple rot on the spot. Magic people were oddities, freaks, they were meant to serve. But Uther treated Merlin kindly, even bought him a small present on his birthday each year, as though having magic was some sort of mental affliction that warranted special consideration. Or perhaps in memory of his father. The townspeople scowled when they saw Arthur playing with Merlin, so Arthur took great pains to keep their reading tree a secret. It was something just for them. A place where Merlin didn't have to feel like a dust mite under the scrutiny of the neighbors.

"Let's get back to the house," Arthur said, knowing now was the time to take charge. Merlin was only too glad to follow his orders. "Meet me in the cellar. I'll bring your magic book." Merlin nodded and took off after Arthur.

While Merlin slunk around the back of the house to the hatch that led to the cellar, leaving a trail of drips where he crossed the stonework, Arthur slipped into the small two-room structure that Merlin had lived in for eleven years. It took him back, looking at Merlin's and Gaius's small beds, sturdy wood lashed together with twine, a thin mattress each. He remembered coming in here only a few times before. There wasn't much to see and Arthur never had any business that took him there. Merlin just went there to sleep; most of his days were spent in Uther's house, under his strong wooden ceilings and on the smooth tiled floors, doing the ironing while Arthur ate his breakfast (prepared by Merlin), or helping Gaius with the washing and the sweeping.

He knew where Merlin kept his magic book. Under a loose floorboard, he found it wrapped in oil skin. There was also a small wrapped package in the little space and Arthur suspected that was his birthday gift. He smiled and clutched the book to his chest, looking both ways before slipping out of Merlin's home and dashing across the yard towards the cellar hatch.

Merlin was shivering in the corner when Arthur jumped to the ground, bypassing the last three steps. He held up the book triumphantly and pressed it into Merlin's hands. They retreated to a corner of the cellar, the side farthest from the barrels of wine, and sat together, side by side.

"Your clothes will be dry in no time," Arthur assured him. "You just need to find the right spell."

Merlin looked uncertainly at the book, still shut on his lap.

"I … don't know. I usually can't get it on the first try."

"I can't do everything perfectly the first time," Arthur said, though part of him wanted to say it wasn't true. Merlin gave him a wry look.

"Just open if. You can't start if you don't try."

Merlin flipped through the pages, looking up first wind, then water spells, then heat. Arthur watched Merlin, not the book. Though Merlin could not read English, he could read the strange language of the Old Religion as diligently as Arthur read from the storybooks. Arthur thought Merlin would be able to learn to read and write if he put his mind to it, but it was forbidden for cursed magic kind. They were meant to serve, not lead.

"This might work," Merlin mumbled, passing his finger over an illustration of garments.

"Try it," Arthur encouraged. Merlin stood and began to peel off his wet shirt and trousers. He stripped to his undergarments and laid the shirt and trousers over a broad pipe while he prepared the spell.

Arthur couldn't help himself. "You look ridiculous."

Merlin half turned to face Arthur, cocking his hip out in imitation of the fashion models in the racy magazines Morgana kept in her room when she was home on break from doing her degree. "You don't think this arse is stunning?"

Arthur bit his lip to keep from cackling with laughter and risk alerting Gaius or Uther.

"Okay, so…" Merlin sat down with the book again. His skin was nearly dry now that his wet clothes were off. He sucked in his stomach, ribs poking out, and ran a finger over the page, double checking and triple-checking the spell. "I think I've got it now." He took a deep breath.

"Merlin!"

He let it out. "What?"

Arthur pointed. The clothing on the pipe was smoking.

"Oh no!" Merlin leapt to his feet and dashed across the cellar with Arthur. "I put it on the boiler pipe! I'm such an idiot!"

Arthur didn't bother agreeing with Merlin. The shirt and the trousers looked like they'd swapped places with the food on the charcoal grill. The clothes gave off quite a bit of smoke. Arthur went back, snatched up Merlin's spell book, and pulled him up towards the hatch.

They ran into Gaius and Uther, sipping tea on the patio, going over the agenda of hired help and shopping for Arthur's thirteenth birthday party.

"Hello boys – um," Uther paused. "Why is Merlin in his undergarments?"

Merlin looked horrified for a split second, glancing self-consciously down his front, his pale, milky white skin covered in gooseflesh. Gaius put down his tea cup and approached the boys.

Hands on hips, "Merlin, where are your clothes?"

Merlin quailed and looked to Arthur for help. But before Arthur could come to his rescue, Uther lifted his head and sniffed the air.

"Do I smell smoke?"

Gaius sniffed the air too. Then he saw the little tendrils of smoke curling out of the open cellar hatch.

"What have you two been up to?" He stalked toward the scene of the crime.

Arthur took off his shirt and tugged it over Merlin's head. It got caught on one of his ears, but when it was on, it covered his indecency.

"Thanks," Merlin said, gratefully. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder and they cautiously approached the cellar.

Uther and Gaius stood at the cellar entrance, squinting into the depths.

"Something's burning," Gaius said, unnecessarily.

"Want us to close the hatch, sir?" Merlin offered. Uther gave him a strange look.

In the end, it was brave Gaius who descended into the cellar and found the remains of Merlin's shirt and trousers crisping away on the hot boiler pipe.

When questioned about the clothes, Merlin said he spilled a glass of water on himself, which was so pathetic a lie that Arthur had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep the giggles at bay.

"I fell in the bathtub," Merlin said.

"I walked through the sprinkler on Mister Bayard's yard." Gaius was not buying it.

"I slipped and fell in a puddle."

"It hasn't rained for a week," Gaius said.

Finally, having heard enough of Merlin's bad alibis, Arthur cleared his throat and said, "Father, it was my fault. I made Merlin go to the pond with me and he fell in." He left out the bit with the raft.

Uther frowned, but it seemed like had already figured Arthur might have been part of the cause of Merlin's burnt clothes.

"So you two were trying to dry the clothes? On the boiler pipe? Surely, Arthur you know better than that."

Merlin fidgeted, wanting to save Arthur from his father's disappointment. "I was going to use magic, sir, but they started to burn up before I could do the spell."

"Oh Merlin," Gaius sighed. "I wish you'd just do things normally sometimes." He hugged Merlin fiercely and marched him back to their home to change his clothes.

"Well, now that that's been sorted – Arthur," Uther put a firm hand on his son's shoulders and steered him into the house, "your uncle Agravaine is here to visit since he will be abroad next week and miss your party. Put on a fresh shirt and wash your face. You smell of smoke." Uther went back inside, leaving Arthur standing on the front steps.

Arthur wished his father would hug him.


	3. Awakening

3\. Awakening

The market was as busy as ever. It was a mild day for once; masses of heaving bodies crowded around the meat stalls, jostling for space with the blood flies and placing their orders as loudly as possible as though shouting would guarantee them their first choice of the cuts of meat. Arthur took Merlin’s hand so he wouldn’t lose him in the crowd and dragged him between the forest of hips and boots and legs to the kebab stand on the other side of the street. It was only slightly less chaotic than the butchers’ stalls with a queue instead of a mob.

Arthur bought them each a kebab and they retreated into the shade of a tree to enjoy their feast. Meat juice dribbled down Merlin’s chin. It was smoky and rich and sweet all at once and Merlin thought that if ever there was a perfect day, this was it. Arthur was devouring his own skewer beside him, slurping up the juices and ripping into the meat with his pointy eye teeth that Merlin liked to tease him about. The sliced peppers and potatoes were hot; Merlin nearly burned his lip at one point, but after they cooled, they settled against his tongue comfortably while he sucked away their flavors.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Merlin said. He placed his empty skewer on the dirt beside him and leaned back against the tree trunk, hands clasped over his stomach in contentment.

Arthur beamed and gave him a gentle nudge on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go around the market some more. Uncle Agravaine gave me some birthday money.”

“Okay,” Merlin said, getting to his feet. He got a little lightheaded and swayed, putting a hand on the rough bark to steady himself. Arthur glanced at him with concern. Merlin had been getting dizzy spells lately, but when asked, he responded with a cheery grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes and an “I’m fine, Arthur, stop worrying.”

Arthur delayed a moment, pretending to watch the clouds drift by, while Merlin caught his breath and got his head under working order. It was just after noon and their shadows were stunted where they stemmed from their feet. Arthur kept a tight hold on his little purse of coins with one hand, and a tight hold on Merlin with the other. He led them away from the food where it most congested and toward the stalls that sold trinkets and toys and interesting objects.

“Here,” Arthur said, thrusting the little sack of coins at Merlin. Merlin wrapped the drawstring around his wrist twice and fell into step behind Arthur, as was his proper place when they were out doing “official things” like shopping. Merlin stared at the wrinkles on Arthur’s red shirt and resisted the urge to smooth them out. There was a bit of bark from the tree they had lunched beneath, so Merlin flicked it away, making sure to flick Arthur as well. Arthur just shook his head and said, “Merlin.”

Merlin giggled and tried to step in Arthur’s shadow. It flinched away when he put his foot down in the dirt. Merlin tried again, frowning in confusion, and the shadow leapt away again. He stomped on it and Arthur turned around, looking more than a little exasperated.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked. Merlin flinched at the curse and Arthur’s shoulders immediately slumped. Merlin was acting childish, gamboling about in his wake. Arthur didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to them, didn’t want to give the other villagers reason to sneer at Merlin. Couldn’t he understand that? He had to act his place in public or risk the consequences of insubordination or disorderly conduct, or one of those stupid laws about magic kind.

“Your shadow’s gone all funny,” Merlin said. “Look.” He put his foot in the little shadow.

“What?”

Merlin frowned. “It was jumping away before.”

“Sure that’s not just your magic playing tricks on you?” Arthur mocked.

Merlin crossed his arms, the coin purse dangling beneath his elbow. “My magic doesn’t play tricks on me. I’m telling the truth – your shadow was misbehaving!”

Arthur snorted. “Misbehaving? Merlin – it’s a shadow. It’s not – it was probably just a trick of the light or something.”

Merlin stared back until Arthur huffed and turned around. He kept his feet away from Arthur’s shadow and trailed behind like he was supposed to, quiet and unassuming. Arthur paused to look over a stall of little trinkets. Brass bells and little metal statues were arrayed on a multicolored cloth next to a glazed pottery bowl filled with stones. There were metal bracelets, band-shaped Merlin thought with a shiver, and there were rings and charms and prayer flags. It wasn’t a display that would usually catch Arthur’s attention. Merlin moved to his side so he could look as well. The shopkeeper was snoring in the corner, so Merlin let his perusal be less furtive. He picked up a dull grey stone and turned it in his palm until it caught the light.

“Arthur, look,” Merlin said. He tilted the stone again.

“What about it? It’s just a rock.”

“No, can’t you see the blue? It’s so bright.” He tilted it some more, intensifying the luster.

Arthur plucked it from his hands and had a look himself. “I see it now,” he said, tilting it this way and that. “It’s nice. Do you want it?”

“I – what?”

“You do,” Arthur said, smirking. He grabbed one of the brass bells and jangled it loudly, startling the owner of the stall awake. “I’ll take this one,” Arthur said, holding up the stone.

The man straightened his robe and squinted at the lump of grayish green rock in Arthur’s hand.

“Labradorite,” he said, smiling slowly. “A very good choice, sir. A most beautiful stone.” He took the rock from Arthur and slipped it into a little felt bag. Arthur paid him with a small coin.

The man looked between the two of them carefully. “Some say it is a stone of magic.”

Merlin kept his head down, Arthur nodded imperceptibly. “Right, well thank you,” he said, and led Merlin away from the strange man with his magic objects.

“You – you didn’t have to,” Merlin stammered when they were back in the crowds.

“I wanted to,” Arthur said. “And look, he told us it was magical. Maybe you can do something with it.” He handed Merlin the little felt sack and smiled at him warmly. Merlin blushed and took it from him, putting the string around his wrist with the coin purse. Arthur turned and began walking in the direction of the bigger stalls without another word, but Merlin knew the gift was his way of expressing his feelings. Merlin never felt more special than when Arthur smiled at him, and the unexpected gift made his chest ache.

When he caught up with Arthur, Arthur was examining a spear. It was fashioned of polished black wood. Intricate scrolling ran up and down the length of the wood like tongues of flame, stained a deep red in the crevasses. The spear tip was blunted for sale, but could easily be sharpened back at the Pendragon house. After all, Uther had a regular armory with his armaments enterprises. Arthur passed his hands over the wood, testing the weight and balance. It wasn’t light, but if he practiced with it every day, he’d soon become strong enough to wield it confidently.

Merlin flinched when the spear came spinning around. It wobbled a bit when Arthur stopped its momentum to rest the butt against the ground.

“What are you going to do with that?” Merlin squeaked.

“Hunt, of course.”

“Why do you want to go off and kill innocent woodland creatures when we buy our meat here?” He gestured around the market place, one eyebrow raised in startling imitation of Gaius.

Arthur replaced the spear on the rack. “Could do with a giant rat I suppose.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh,” Merlin said, the idea dawning on him. “Hengist’s father’s rats? The wildoren beasts? Arthur, those are dangerous – they’ll rip you to shreds if you go near them.”

“They’re blind, idiot,” Arthur scoffed. “I’d stick them before they even saw me. The spear will fit between their cage bars, and if one gets out, the length gives me plenty of range to maneuver. I’ll just need to practice a bit.”

“Please tell me I’m not going to be the target.”

“You? No you’ll just hold the target on your back and run a bit. It’ll be fun,” he added. Merlin groaned while Arthur bought the spear. The tip was wrapped carefully in layers of old newspaper.

Later that day, Arthur took them to the woods where it was quiet. He unwrapped the spear’s covering and began going through some of the practice moves in his book. Merlin lay in the grass, tugging at the tufts and making the dandelion seeds blow into little patterns on the air with his magic. The glen was shaded, sheltered from the sun by the thick canopy of trees, and the grass was cool to the touch. Merlin laid his cheek against it, feeling the blades tickling his nose as he stretched out, watching a sweating Arthur thrusting and dodging at an invisible opponent.

“When do I get to be a moving target?” Merlin inquired sarcastically.

Arthur paused to catch his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. “Well I have to get good first, Merlin. I don’t want to injure you or anything. That’s why I’m practicing now.” He took up the spear again, looking like a warrior of old, and flung it at a tree.

It missed.

Merlin got to his feet and went to retrieve it. It seemed it was time to play fetch.

Arthur tried again and again until Merlin was sure his shoulder would become dislocated.

“It’s harder than it looks,” Arthur snapped upon seeing Merlin’s unimpressed look.

“Can I try?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. If I can’t, you certainly can’t.”

“Prat,” Merlin muttered, taking the spear in his own hands. It was heavy. He dropped it.

Arthur laughed and was about to pick it up, when the spear glowed blue and went hurtling into a tree forty paces away. The trunk split down the middle, and Arthur and Merlin gaped as the two halves of the tree came crashing down onto the forest floor.

Then it was silent.

Merlin sat down and stared.

“That was magic,” Arthur cried. “Powerful magic! Merlin, it’s coming back to you.” He pulled him to his feet and into a tight hug. “It must have been that stone. We should go back tomorrow and buy some more – different ones this time.”

He let him down when Merlin didn’t hug back.

Arthur sighed. “What’s the matter now?”

“Just… don’t,” Merlin said. “Don’t get my hopes up. I want to go home. I need to talk… talk to Gaius.”

“Right. Yeah, okay. You go home, I’ll be along later.” Arthur went to get his spear. When he turned around, Merlin’s skinny form was vanishing into the trees.

Arthur examined the spear. The wood was shot through with forks of blue lightning and the metal tip had changed. Instead of the dulled bronze tip, it was sharpened steel polished so brightly Arthur could see his reflection. Steel, he thought wondrously, turning the spear over in his hands, true steel. And then he noticed the gold, a faint glitter etched along the small spear tip’s fuller. It looked like the language in Merlin’s spell book, but Arthur couldn’t be sure. It was beautiful though. Merlin did this, he thought, still not daring to believe it had happened. He glanced at the tree halves, split cleanly. The wood was smoking slightly and was warm to the touch. Arthur sat down on one; his spear lay across his lap, and he stared into the forest.

Merlin kicked a pebble and watched it roll and bounce against the mud brick wall lining the alley. The day had grown much hotter and his fringe was sticking uncomfortably to his forehead. He was dimly aware he still held Arthur’s coin purse and the magic stone.

The business in the forest with the spear – it had startled Merlin badly. He wasn’t meant to use any war magic, and yet he had with no pain from his band at all. He figured, if his magic were truly coming back to him, despite the band, it would creep back in increments. What little he could usually summon was nowhere near as powerful as what he’d done in the woods. It was frightening. He hadn’t even meant to split the tree. What else might burst out of him? He was dangerous and unpredictable. That could have been a human, he thought. He could split a man in two with just a wave of his hand and a weapon. The potential to murder and kill danced on his fingertips and Merlin clutched his hands into fists, determined not to let anyone see the blackness of his thoughts. Perhaps this was why the magic users were banded, so that the power did not corrupt them. Merlin had always thought of his band as a prison of sorts, keeping all but his weakest magic from him. Now he wondered if he should wish for it to remain, to keep away his power. The things he could do if it were released…

And then he had another thought: he would surely be tortured or killed if anyone found his magic was escaping. Merlin wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself, and pretended it was Arthur hugging him instead. The magic was crackling under his skin, making the hairs on his neck stand up. He felt a tear slide down his cheek, splashing onto the parched ground beneath them. And then another fell, and another.

A rock flew out of nowhere and struck him on the shoulder. Merlin cried out and went down, hands out to break his fall. The labradorite stone collided with his wrist, and pain shot up his arm. He rolled onto his side and made to sit up and came face to face with Hengist.

“Is that money, I see?” Hengist was fat and wore an old leather vest, shredded at the sleeves as though his father’s wildoren had ravaged it. He leered at Merlin and stamped on his wrist until Merlin’s hand opened and the little coin purse tumbled out. Alvarr stepped in and scooped it up, along with the stone, feeling the weight of the coins in his palm.

Hengist looked casually around the alley. “I don’t see your master anywhere. Send you away, did he? Well look on the bright side,” he smiled and it was far from a pleasant expression, “you’ve come to the right place. Me and my boys will look after you now, won’t we?”

Cenred, also in leather, smiled slowly, his lips stretching over his teeth like worms. He held a leather cord in one hand and Merlin shrank away.

“If you come any closer,” Merlin warned, “you’ll be sorry.” His eyes darted from Hengist to Cenred with the whip, to Alvarr and Jarl.

“What are you going to do, Merlin? Some of your little magic tricks? They won’t work this time. Show him Cenred.”

Merlin’s eyes stretched wide as Cenred unraveled the cord, letting the tail drag in the dirt as he came closer. It was pure instinct to lash out, but then Merlin remembered the pain from his band all those times before and the spear in the woods from earlier that day and stomped out the tendril of magic that sprang to his fingers. He knew that whatever magic burst from him this instant would be full of anger. But he wasn’t a murderer, he wasn’t.

He clenched his hands into fists, eyes darting back and forth, looking for a route of escape. Cenred brought the cord down on his arm. Merlin cried out and stared at the welt rising on his skin. It curled around his arm like a red snake, puffy and bloated, and then a second stripe fell to match it. Merlin was jerked onto his knees with the third lash. He put his hands up to protect his face, all the while suppressing the urge to fling his attackers against the far wall of the alley. He would kill them all – no he wouldn’t, what would Uther and Gaius say? He could injure them with a thought, he knew he could. And the stone, it was so close in Alvarr’s hand. It was blue in the light, blue like Arthur’s eyes. The whip fell again and caught Merlin on the jaw. He reeled back and fell against the mud brick wall, dirt showering down on him, stinging his eyes. They were laughing, he realized, wiping away his tears. He scrambled to his feet unsteadily and held his hand out before him, palm raised, fingers spread. His attackers took a step back.

“If you hurt us with your dirty magic, we’ll tell our fathers,” Jarl threatened.

“Mine’ll put you in a cage,” said Hengist, hands on his hips, “with the giant baby rats.”

Merlin wavered, feeling a headache coming on. His blood pounded behind his eyes; black spots bloomed across his vision and he blinked rapidly to dispel them. A small glowing orb appeared in his palm suddenly and the boys flinched back, staring at it. Cenred held his whip up, ready to strike the blue ball down, but the colors swirled. Merlin was as surprised as they were, and wondered what on earth his magic was up to. This was not war magic, the orb couldn’t be used to harm anyone, he knew. His band pulsed gently at his ankle, but it lacked the ferocious burning that usually accompanied his magic when he felt threatened.

When it was clear the orb wasn’t going to hurt them, Hengist advanced on Merlin again and drove him back against the wall from sheer force of presence. The orb floated away, higher in the air, and Merlin felt abandoned.

And then footsteps came down the alley. A flash of white appeared in the corner of Merlin’s eye and then he saw Jarl doubled over on the ground, gripping his stomach. Alvarr dropped the stone and took off after Cenred, Arthur’s birthday money swinging from the drawstring on his wrist.

“Leave,” said the boy in white, brandishing a stick at Hengist. “Go play with your rats and stop harassing children. Or I’ll feed you to them myself.”

“To children?” Hengist squawked.

“To the rats, you fool! Now get lost!”

Merlin was breathing hard, though he hadn’t taken part in any of the ass-kicking. He looked up, wide-eyed at the boy in white. He had thick, dark hair and a kind face.

“You saved my life,” Merlin said, climbing to his feet. The boy put a hand on his arm to steady him.

“Nonsense,” he replied, flushing a little. “I only helped a bit. I can’t stand boys like Hengist – they’re dishonorable and crude and cruel. My name is Lancelot by the way, what’s yours?”

“Merlin,” said Merlin.

“Well, it was pleasure to meet you Merlin.” He smiled down at him and Merlin realized the boy was a few years older than himself, probably fifteen or sixteen, and a good deal stronger.

“Likewise,” Merlin managed, swallowing. Then, “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

Lancelot shrugged. “I come and go as the winds take me. People like me, we aren’t really welcome anywhere. My parents were in the magic rebellion.”

“Mine too,” Merlin croaked.

Running footsteps came up the alley. Lancelot stepped between Merlin and the oncoming feet, stick raised in a defensive posture. Arthur came running around the bend, spear in hand. He didn’t even glance at Lancelot or the giant stick as he pelted by and enveloped Merlin in a tight hug.

“I followed a blue ball all the way here!” he exclaimed, when he got his breath back. “Are you hurt?”

Merlin glanced briefly at Lancelot. Arthur narrowed his eyes.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

Lancelot put the stick down and offered his hand. “Lancelot,” he said. “I found your friend here, beset by villains.”

“Then I owe you a debt of gratitude,” Arthur said solemnly, in a near perfect copy of Uther’s voice. He shook hands with Lancelot and when he turned back to Merlin, he noticed the blue orb hovering around the alley.

“Was it Hengist again, Merlin?” he asked, checking over the welts on Merlin’s face and arms.

“Yes. And Alvarr took your birthday money! I tried to stop him, but Cenred had a whip and I was so afraid to use my magic after what happened in the forest, Arthur. What if I’d killed them?”

Arthur snorted. “Then the world would be a happier place.”

“It would be murder and I’d be executed as a murderer! What if I can’t control my magic, Arthur? What if they were right to band me because I’m super dangerous?”

“Shut up,” Arthur snapped. “It was not right to band you or anyone else. Never say that! And you aren’t dangerous Merlin, you have a good heart. You’re just learning, that’s all.” He smoothed Merlin’s hair back. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

Lancelot tactfully made a retreat at that point, giving Arthur and Merlin both a farewell nod.

Merlin hugged Arthur tightly. “I’m just… I don’t want to hurt people – well some I do – but what if I hurt Gaius or your father by accident with my magic? What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” Arthur said simply. “You won’t because I trust you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 2012.


End file.
